


Trust

by breeisonfire



Series: TAG prompt fics [23]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Brotp, Gen, i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: akireyta prompted: 5, 30, 82? Brotp maybe?





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> 5\. “You’re safe now.”
> 
> 30\. “Is that blood?”
> 
> 82\. “I trust you.”

Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward is not one who scares easily. She is perfectly in control at all times, a masterpiece of subtle looks and body language and cadence, all tailored to whatever she wants others to see at that moment. John’s seen her switch from bubbly blonde heiress to sharp and silver-tongued agent in less than ten seconds before. He’s witnessed her take down idiotic investors with just words, and take down men twice her size in at least three moves, never breaking a heel. He’s lucky enough that he gets to see behind all the masks, as well, to just Penny. The real, genuine girl, in all her admittedly _incredible_ glory.

Even so, he’s never seen her like this.

“John!”

It’s the tone that gets his attention. Panic, more than the hint she’ll allow during actual crisis, when others are expecting it. Guilt, even though none of this has been her fault. And, somehow, exhaustion.

It’s enough to make him pull himself together, to gather the strength to raise his head and look up at her. He’s unable to hide the grimace, and Penny’s face, when it comes into focus, is pinched with worry.

“Hey, Pen,” he manages to get out, his voice hoarse. “I think I have a situation.”

Despite the situation, Penny still manages to push aside some of her worry enough to give him a dry look. “Yes, darling, I can see that. This was not supposed to happen.”

Yeah. John’s aware of that. It was just supposed to be a simple party. It was a three-person job, and Kayo’s out with a flu that landed her in isolation for two days. Gordon would have happily volunteered to go along, but he’s been helping clean up a toxic waste spill in the Pacific for the past week and a half and he couldn’t in good conscience get away, even for Lady Penelope.

Gordon _had_ tried to beg Virgil to come switch, but Scott needed backup, and Alan was up on Thunderbird Five, subbing in for John on monitor duty. John was supposed to be sleeping and wasn’t _technically_ considered flight-capable.

And so he had been pulled along into Penny’s plans, much like he always had in college, and that was apparently that.

The party was much more lowkey than John had been expecting. Penny had a contact that was going to hand over information on the Chaos Crew that they desperately needed. Penny had deftly charmed the crowd as Parker met around back with Penny’s contact, and John tried to pretend he wasn’t bothered by the entire situation.

Except his anonymity he’d enjoyed at the last time he’d gone to a party with Penny has apparently run its course, because he’d been recognized. Not that he’d known it at first. Parker had given the signal over the earpieces John and Penny both had in, and Penny had excused herself to the ladies’ room. John politely pretended to listen to a very self-important man talk about the economy and silently pleaded for Penny to hurry back.

He’d managed to extract himself from the conversation and gone to the bar to get another drink. And after that, things started to get blurry.

He now knows he’d been drugged. He’d woken up in a chair, his wrists and ankles tied and a bag covering his head. One of the men who had taken him was incensed because Tracy Industries had apparently declined his proposal for a new jetpack prototype. John doubts the decision had made it up to Scott, but either way, the man blamed him for his business going under. He didn’t want a ransom; he wanted _revenge_.

John doesn’t know how they knew who he was or that he’d be there. He’s not sure if the mission was a real or if they’d fallen into a trap. He’s not sure why they untied him and left him alone in this room. He also doesn’t know how Penny found him.

All he really knows is that there’s a stab wound in his abdomen, and it _hurts like hell_.

“Is that blood?” Penny’s noticed now, as well. She’s always had an eye for detail.

“They had a knife,” John says, flinching as she pulls his shirt carefully away from it. The world is starting to go fuzzy, and the pain isn’t really helping. It’s making it harder to think.

“Yes, I can see that,” Penny says. “Well, it doesn’t look too deep. Let me just -,” she pulls off her jacket - actually, _his_ jacket, he realizes - and folds it up. She moves to place it over his wound and pauses, looking at him.

“Now, darling, this is going to hurt a bit,” she says, and John has exactly two seconds to wonder how bad before the world explodes in a wave of white-hot pain.

It takes a while for him to finally come back to himself. When he finally manages it, the world still seems distant. He’s lying on his back. The face that peers down at him when he peeks through his eyes is not Penny’s. It’s not anyone he recognizes, which is cause enough for concern, but then someone squeezes his hand. He moves his head, blinks past the dizziness, and sees Penny.

“Hello, again, darling,” she says, offering him a small smile. It takes John a moment to process what she’s said.

“Hi,” he says, then blinks in annoyance as someone shines a light in his eyes. He wants to tell the paramedic to go away, but Penny squeezes his hand again and he looks at her.

“Be nice,” she says. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. Let him do his job.”

John raises an eyebrow, because between the two of them, Penny’s the worse patient. John’s not really in any position to point it out, but he makes a mental note to bring it up later. He’s the one who was there when she had her appendix out, finals week of their first year at college. He’s kept precise records, updated and alphabetized.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by a sudden feeling of vertigo and his eyes shoot open (when had they closed?) as he accidentally squeezes Penny’s hand in a death grip.

“Relax, darling,” Penny says soothingly. “It was only the stretcher. They’re getting you into the ambulance. You’re safe now. I promise.”

John meets her eyes. She’s not quite as composed as she’s trying to appear, but there’s nothing but reassurance and concern in her blue eyes. It’s not a mask. For some reason, it’s that that convinces him.

“Mm. I trust you,” John says, though it comes out slurred. He’s tired, and staying awake is a little bit too much effort.

The last thing he’s aware of before he drifts off is Penny, a gentle smile on her face. He knows he’ll be okay with her watching over him. He’s safe.


End file.
